


I Do Believe Fruit Loops Are Calling My Name

by idreamtofreality



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, M/M, Michael except not, almost forgot, but also dean, especially cas, fruit loops, i guess there's language?, nerd!dean, punk!Cas, sammy's with sarah, they're both stupid losers, this is as fluffy as i've been for a while
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2261580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idreamtofreality/pseuds/idreamtofreality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is Castiel’s best friend, but there is no way Castiel is going to talk to him in public. He has a reputation to uphold. Instead, he reserves conversations with him for the nighttime, when nobody else is around to figure out that Dean is Castiel’s dirty little secret. And frankly, Dean is really sick of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Do Believe Fruit Loops Are Calling My Name

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frenchmeafry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frenchmeafry/gifts).



“Hello, Dean.”

The words send a shiver up Dean’s spine, like they always do—like anything Cas ever says does. He clutches his phone a little tighter and curls up on his bed, smiling into his pillow and trying to muffle the squeal that is building up in his chest. “Hey, Cas. I hope you’re done with your essay.”

“You really think I would be writing at this hour?” The other boy sounds amused. “Have you met me? Besides. Mr. Milton loves me. I could turn it in next week and still pull off a B.”

Dean laughs. “I’m sure you could.”

“What’s up?” At this moment, Dean thinks, Castiel will be tugging at the piercing on his bottom lip, like he always does when he’s waiting for the answer to a question. It’s incredibly adorable. Dean needs to stop thinking about it.

“I was wondering if you were up to some gaming.” He holds his breath in the quiet of his bedroom, because these kind of questions will either get a hesitant ‘yes’, or Cas will get defensive and hang up.

There is a moment of silence before Castiel finally asks, “What kind?” and Dean lets out his breath.

“I don’t know. Whatever loads the fastest.”

“I found a new game, if you want to check that out. I’ll send you the link.” On the other side of the line, Dean hears some clicks before he gets a notification on his phone. “Remember our deal.” There it is. He had to bring it up.

“Yeah, yeah, not supposed to tell anybody about your secret indulgence of online games.”

“It would ruin my reputation.”

“Hah. Imagine if they knew you’ve been playing them your entire life with me. Little old me.”

“Dean, seriously.”

Dean sighs into the phone. “I know.” He logs onto his computer and finds the link in his email, absently toying with his glasses. “We could stop, if you want. So you won’t have to hide anything.” Dean misses when they were younger, when he and Cas could hang out without Cas getting embarrassed or checking his surroundings every three seconds. Before Cas had shitty (and kind of terrifying) friends and before Dean associated himself with the qualified nerds of the school. Life was simpler back then. It was nice. Now they only spoke on the phone and hung out in virtual chat rooms.

“I don’t want to stop,” Castiel says. “It’s fine. I like talking to you.”

Dean holds himself back from pointing out the fact that the only reason they don’t talk more is because Cas has his stupid ‘reputation’ to uphold, and he would rather talk to Michael. He has to be the rebel. The tough one. And Dean—well, Dean is his dirty little secret. “Okay, I’m logged in. Help me out here.”

For the rest of the night, they only talk about the game.

 

“Rise and shine, Sammy,” Dean announces, poking his head into his younger brother’s door. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us. First day of the week. Monday. The big cheese. The hell of days. We have to live through a whole ‘nother day—” He dodges Sam’s badly thrown pillow and flips on the light. Sam groans at him. “Come on, Sasquatch. I made breakfast.”

A face pokes out, framed by a flop of shaggy hair. “What kind of breakfast?” Sam mumbles.

“Eggs, bacon, toast, and that nasty orange stuff you made me slice up yesterday.”

“Cantaloupe?” The younger boy finally slides out of bed, a bitch-face already plastered on. “Fruit is good for you, Dean.”

“Yeah, whatever. Get dressed and come downstairs before I start throwing some of your good for you fruit toward your Sasquatch face.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch,” Dean sings back, skipping down the stairs. After a few minutes, Sam joins him in the kitchen, wearing perfectly pressed clothes and perfectly combed hair but still rubbing his eyes. He looks around blearily, taking in the dimly lit surroundings. “Eat up,” Dean tells him. He plops a plate down in front of him and offers him a fork.

“Where’s dad?”

“Out.”

Sam frowns down at the plate and takes the fork. “What do you mean, out?”

“I mean he’s out, Sammy. He left at one.”

“How long is he going to be gone?”

“Only a few days. Not too long. We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth and grimaces at the amount of grease there is. Whatever. Dean’s food is good to everybody but health freaks like Sam. Guess who isn't going to get any Elven Lembas bread tomorrow morning? “We’re always ‘fine’.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m sick of him being gone all the time, and you shouldn’t have to try and be my dad,” Sam snaps. He grabs the piece of cantaloupe on his plate and chews on it angrily.

“He’s trying, Sam—”

“And stop defending him! He’s a shitty dad and you know it!”

Dean flinches. “Don’t say that, Sammy.”

Sam scrapes the rest of his food into the garbage and starts toward his room to get his things. “Whatever, Dean. I’ll get a ride with Brady.”

Dean slams a fist against the wall. His morning had been going so well. And then this had to happen.

It’s fine. They’ll be fine. They always are. John always comes back sooner or later and he always has money. Dean shakes his head and cleans up what is left of breakfast before dialing Charlie’s number.

“Hello, hello,” she says cheerily.

“Hey. What’s the plan for tonight?”

“Chuck wanted us to act out this piece he wrote.”

“Oh my god, that series he’s doing?” Dean laughs into his phone and grabs his backpack. “He keeps going on about my eyes.”

“Because they’re—” There is a rustling of papers before Charlie comes back “—emerald green, with specks of hazel toward the iris, so deep and beautiful and he found that though he tried, he could not look away, could not tear his eyes away from the beauty that resided there—”

“Wow, okay. You can definitely stop there.” Dean climbs into the Impala and keys the engine until he hears the satisfying rumble that is his baby. “Who was the guy staring deeply into my eyes? I don’t think I’ve heard that.”

“Oh. Uhm. Just something. Are you picking me up?”

“Yeah, sure. Gotta go. Driving.” Dean hangs up, then curses at himself for not being pushy enough. If he was anything like Charlie he would have kept pestering her until she finally gave it up. What the hell was Chuck even writing?

Dean pulls out of the driveway and starts moving down the road, his fingers playing with the charm attached to his keychain. It’s an old habit of his, and the star engraved onto the surface is almost worn away. He had gotten it when he was almost five, at the hospital his mom had been admitted to when she got into her accident and was horribly burned. While John waited in the room with Sam, Dean wandered outside, unable to stand his father’s constant anger. That’s where he met Cas, a pale, dark haired, blue-eyed boy that crouched in the sandbox all by himself. He just sat there, scooping up sand, then letting it fall through his fingers. He had given Dean the charm within five minutes of meeting him, insisting that it would protect him. He hadn’t had any piercings, then. No tattoos. No dark streaks outlining his eyes.

Not that any of that is bad. Dean thinks it’s actually kind of hot, but he wouldn’t ever get any of it for himself. He likes how it looks on Cas, but doesn’t like how much Cas strayed away from him when it all started, toward the other people that dressed in the same dark clothing just so he could fit in, so he wouldn’t be scorned and laughed at like he was in the earlier years of his life.

Why couldn’t Cas just realize that it was Dean who had always been there for him, Dean who had never laughed at him, who had always been his friend? Why the hell is Cas always going to Michael?

Dean shakes the thought out of his head. Just because he’s Castiel’s friend doesn’t mean he deserves any special treatment. It’s selfish. Stupid.

He finally gets himself to Charlie’s house and waits for only a few seconds before the redhead comes flying out, sliding through the window and into the shotgun seat without bothering to open the door. “Where’s Sam?” she asks, craning her neck sideways so she can see in the back.

“Uh. He got kind of upset this morning when I defended Dad. So he’s getting a ride with Brady.”

“I don’t like that kid. He’s fishy.”

“Nobody likes that kid,” Dean returns. “Are we picking up Thea?”

“No. She got a ride with her dad. He’s so controlling and impossible. Dorothy this, Dorothy that. He won’t let us hang out anymore.”

“He probably thinks you’re a bad influence.”

“Probably. But it isn’t our fault he walked in on us. Hey, how’re you and Cas doing?”

Dean shrugs, turns the corner. “We’re doing. He’s still trying to keep up his reputation. We talked last night.”

“What an ass.”

“He’s not an ass,” Dean immediately says. “He’s trying to fit in.”

Charlie rolls her eyes.

 

Dean has Castiel in three of his classes, and they don’t really speak to each other in any of them. Cas sits in the back, slouching, dark makeup around his eyes and his hair looking like he had just gotten out of bed. A lot of people think that he does that on purpose, but Dean knows better. No matter how hard Cas tries, the hair won’t stay down. Eventually he just learned to roll with it.

Dean pulls out his phone and sends a quick message.

backinblack>>trenchcoatt: how are you doing

He looks toward Cas once his phone tells him that yes, it was sent, and watches his friend’s face light up.

Dean wonders if Cas’ face lights up like that if he sees Dean’s normal username on his screen, not Michael’s.

trenchcoatt>>backinblack: im stuck in english help

Dean smiles. Dean always smiles when Cas is messaging him.

trenchcoatt>>backinblack: what about you

>>youre in math rn right

Dean has to think for a moment to remember his alias’ schedule. He had spent days—weeks, even, planning out Michael Colt. What he looked like, what his routines were, where he lived—hell, what he liked on his pancakes. And when he was ready, Dean finally found Cas online and started up a conversation using his new persona.

He had just meant to talk to him without having the awkwardness Cas always projected toward Dean. He was supposed to talk to Cas for a little while, and then be all ‘surprise it was actually me you dick pay attention to me’. Dean hadn’t meant to fall in love with him.

backinblack>>trenchcoatt: right

>>im doing ok chat tonight

<<skype?

>>cas

<<i know youre scared to let me hear your voice or whatever

<<you weirdo

<<are you 300 pounds

<<no youre fat arent you

Dean hides his phone in his pocket and tries to concentrate on what Mr. Milton is saying. He’s the kind of man that seems to leak greasiness from his very pores—balding, with a hooked nose and beady eyes and honestly Dean think he is a bit like a certain Professor Snape and a bit more honestly Dean hates him. But he sits close to the front because he’s an eager to learn kind of person and if Milton caught him with his phone he would get detention and John would kill him. Even worse, if Milton caught Dean with his phone, he would probably read the messages aloud and god everything would be ruined. Dean would freeze in his chair like the scared rabbit he is and Castiel would just _look_ at him with those gorgeous blue eyes and well Dean would just die inside.

So he refrains from pulling his phone out for a few more minutes while Milton rants on about how one cannot begin a sentence with the words ‘but’, ‘and’, ‘so’, ‘because’, etc., etc., and the rest of the class rolls their eyes because people only follow that kind of rule while they’re in English class.

When the time comes to finally quote unquote work, Dean decides it’s safe to pull his phone out again. Castiel had sent a few in Michael’s absence.

trenchcoatt>>backinblack: wait did i insult you

>>im sorry

>>kind of?

>>michael

>>come back

<<wow youre kind of pathetic

<<you needy freak

<<no im not fat

<<im actually kind of hot

>>yeah sure you are

>>do you have piercings

<<youve asked me this fifteen times already

<<literally i saved the messages

>>youre supposed to have piercings by now

<<what would it matter

<<you cant see my face anyway

>>id like to tho ;)

Dean freezes and stares down at his phone. Did Cas just send Dean (not Dean; Michael) a winky face? Do people even do that anymore? And _Cas_? Why the hell was Cas, of all people, using a winky face?

Cas, with his piercings and tattoos and makeup and dark, mussed hair and dark clothing and his smoking and his gravelly voice and Jesus Christ Castiel James Novak has no business sending anybody winky faces.

How would Michael reply to that? Dean hadn’t exactly prepared him for this kind of thing. He had brainstormed replies for all sorts of things, but never this.

Dean finally decides to go with a friendly banter. It’s probably safest. Don’t make a big deal out of this, Dean. It isn’t a big deal. You totally aren’t swooning in your chair right now. Stop.

backinblack>>trenchcoatt: oh i know you would

He glances back at Cas when it sends, and watches a smirk slowly spread across the other boy’s face.

Dean Winchester lives for that smirk.

trenchcoatt>>backinblack: what are you doing rn

<<at the moment pretending to work

>>i want to meet you

>>why wont you let me meet you

>>or see you at least

Dean stares at his desk. What had Milton asked them to work on? Essays? He’s already finished with that. So he’s safe to text, right? He couldn’t get in trouble?

trenchcoatt>>backinblack: ok so confession

>>i wrote you a letter

>>and i emailed it

>>last night

<<havnt read it yet

<<haven’t*

>>i know just

>>dont laugh ok

<<why would i laugh

<<cas??

<<what is it about

>>read it when you get home ok

<<wait let me get this straight

<<you wrote a letter to me

>>*listen to it

>>i wrote it

>>and read it

>>and sent you the recording

>>ok ttyl ‘work’ time is ending

Dean smiles at his phone. Milton hasn’t moved from his desk—work time isn’t ending. Cas is just chickening out. His phone buzzes again with a new message, from Charlie.

queengranger>>winchester67: chuck wants 2 no plan

>>r u coming ovr

<<yes

<<sam is going to bradys

>>talk 2 cas

Dean clicks his phone off and shoves it into his pocket. Jesus. Everything with Charlie has to go back to Cas. She was always trying to convince him to talk in public, to make their friendship known. “You’ve been friends with him for longer than you have with me,” she always told him. “Shouldn’t that mean something?”

“Of course it means something,” Dean always replied. “If we hadn’t been friends for so long, then he wouldn’t even bother talking to me.”

Which is messed up. Even Dean knows it’s messed up. Cas is just talking to him out of an obligation, because he feels like he’s supposed to. It was after the first time they had this conversation that Dean started thinking about Michael. If he could create somebody that Cas had never met, that Cas didn’t feel any obligation toward, could he still be friends with him?

Apparently so. Dean was quite successful. Maybe a little too successful.

“Work time is almost over,” calls Mr. Milton. Jo, sitting beside Dean, leans toward him and smirks.

“I hear his niece is going to start coming to school,” she whispers.

Dean likes Jo. She’s tough and snarky and funny and like a sister to Dean, really. Especially since Ellen is like a mother to him and she makes the best pies in Lawrence. “Niece?” he whispers back. Jo is the kind of person you have to fish information out of.

“Anna Milton. I’ve been warned to watch out for her.” Jo nods toward his phone. “Who has you blushing?”

Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Nobody.”

“Do you have a secret girlfriend?” Jo pokes his side, grinning. “Come on, spill. Who’s dating the nerd?”

“Mr. Winchester and Miss Harvelle,” Mr. Milton chastises, “Are you finished with your essays?”

“All done, Mr. Milton,” Dean says, and Jo echoes him, although Dean seriously doubts she has any of it done. She’ll probably just copy Ash’s, who is already done with all of the school year’s work (it was November, for Christ’s sake—Dean didn’t even know that that was possible) and probably currently smoking pot. He’s a cool guy.

“And you, Castiel?”

All eyes turn to the boy in the back. He is holding his phone between two long fingers, swinging it back and forth rhythmically. “It’ll be done when it needs to be done,” he says lazily, blinking at the teacher. “It always is.”

“Perhaps you should be working on it, rather than talking to your friends?”

Ah, yes. Cas’ friends. Meg, with her sultry grin and blood red lipstick; Inias, stick thin and unhealthily gaunt; Pamela, always wearing sunglasses for no reason; and Lilith, who is creepy as hell with her little kid sing-song voice. Wonderful people. Dean absolutely adores every single one of them.

Okay. Well, Pamela was alright. And Meg has her moments, when she isn’t hanging on Cas’ arms with that sickening look on her face. Which she’s doing right now.

She’s playing with Cas’ free hand, her small tongue slowly tracing her bottom lip. Dean feels a little sick watching it. He looks away, toward Jo, who still seems intrigued.

“Perhaps,” Cas finally replies.

“He’s so badass,” Jo whispers. Dean rolls his eyes.

“How is that badass?”

“I don’t know. He’s just. Look at him. How is he so attractive?”

Dean often wonders that himself, but he isn’t about to answer Jo. He pulls out his essay and smooths it out on his desk absently. If he could make it this long—six years—without revealing his relationship to Cas, then he can make it longer.

He just really doesn’t want to.

 

“Dean and Sam crept toward the house, hesitation in every step they took. What could lie inside? The harsh cold of ghosts? The billowing black smoke of demons? Sam tried the door first, and, when he found it unlocked, he swung it open so Dean could move inside, gun held at ready to destroy any sort of monster, any sort of being that came their way.

“Their breaths made small puffs of air in front of their faces, but it was a natural cold. They could tell. They looked toward each other and exchanged meaningful glances before Dean darted to another room, cleared it, and began looking though things on the desk.

“The house had belonged to a hunter.

“And was that blood on the floor?

“Dean’s emerald eyes scanned the rest of the room. The whole place was in disarray—papers of all sorts were scattered across the floor, and a sprinkling of shattered glass from what was once the skylight mingled with it, and there was an open safe in the wall, in front of which was an empty gun case—”

“Chuck, Chuck,” Charlie groans, collapsing onto the floor so she can cover her ears dramatically. The movement rattles the coffee table and causes some of her paper money to fall to the ground. “This is all over the place.”

Chuck looks mildly offended. “I thought it was alright. I mean, yeah, it might need some editing, but I thought it was alright.”

“Okay, Chuck,” Dean says. “I’ll bite. What is this?”

“My new series. Remember? I’m calling it ‘Supernatural’. Two brothers that are searching for their father, hunting monsters down as they go.”

Dean rolls his die and scoots his car forward, past go, and collects his two hundred dollars before promptly giving it up to Garth, who owns the space he landed on. “And you just so happened to use the names ‘Sam’ and ‘Dean’?”

“Sam and Dean Winchester,” Chuck says. “They’re good names.”

“Yeah, I know they’re good names,” Dean grumbles. Charlie picks up all of her money from the floor and bundles it up into one messy pile, too lazy to sort it again. “We’re looking for our father? He isn’t missing.”

“It can’t all be parallel, Dean. And besides. Didn’t you hear the first piece I read to you guys?”

Chuck is met with a collection of blank stares before Garth finally offers, “Was the Impala in it? I think I remember the Impala being in it.”

“You all are impossible. Okay, so Dean shows up at Sam’s apartment—”

“He has an apartment?” Dean interrupts. “Aw. All grown up. My widdle Sammy.”

“Shut up. Dean shows up and he says to Sam: ‘Dad went on a hunting trip and he hasn’t been home in a few days’. He hunts monsters too?”

“So like when my actual dad disappears on me,” Dean says, “Except this time he hunts monsters instead of working crap jobs. Gimme a hotel, Garth. And you came up with this idea how?”

“I dream up most of my ideas,” Chuck says. He is the only one not participating in the game, and is sitting cross-legged in the most comfortable arm chair with his papers resting in his lap. “Do you guys want to hear more?”

“I’d like to hear more about Dean’s eyes,” Charlie says. “I want to hear again about how dreamy they are.”

Chuck rolls his eyes. “At least I try.”

“You’ll get somewhere someday, Chuck.”

“Not with a name like Chuck.”

Like Dean can’t get anywhere with Cas with a name like Dean. His life is so sad.

“I think I’m done with Monopoly,” Charlie announces.

“Everybody’s done with Monopoly,” says Garth. “Besides. Dean always wins. It’s annoying.”

“Not my fault you guys suck.” Dean stuffs a fistful of chips into his mouth. “What do you suggest? And no, Chuck, we don’t want to hear any more.”

“Okay, I get it. You all hate my writing.” Chuck ignores the immediate protests. “What about an LOTR marathon? We haven’t done that in a while.”

“We really are nerds.” Dean sorts his money back into his box.

“Hey,” Charlie says defensively. “You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

“Embrace it,” says Garth.

“Didn’t say I had a problem with it.” Dean runs a hand through his hair, and Charlie gives him a look that says she knows exactly what he’s thinking about. Sometimes Dean wishes he was less nerdy so Cas would pay more attention to him. Charlie knew Dean a bit too well. “LOTR, then?”

As Garth puts away the rest of the board, Charlie scoots toward Dean. “Have you spoken to him?”

“Really, Charlie?” But, as if on cue, Dean’s phone gives a ‘lev-ee-OH-sah’ and Charlie perks up. “Probably not him.”

“But what if it is?”

“Charlie,” Chuck calls, “Help me find the movies.”

“Go help Chuck find the movies,” Dean says.

“Are you going to check your messages?”

“Not if you’re here.” Dean shoves her toward Chuck, who is waiting in the doorway, and pulls out his phone.

trenchcoatt>>backinblack: have you listened to the thing

<<havent been home yet

<<sorry

>>can i call you

>>you dont have to say anything

>>just listen

>>i mean not rn but in the future

>>is this a good time

<<im at a friends house

>>o

<<no its okay ive seen this movie a hundred times

“Found them!” Charlie bounds into the living room and slides the first disk in before plopping down next to Dean again.

“Nobody’s allowed to say the words before, during, or even after the movie,” Chuck orders, following her in. “No quoting. Act like this is the first time you’ve seen this.” He drops a bowl of popcorn onto the coffee table (where the hell did that come from?) and reclaims his seat in the recliner. “Whatcha doin, Dean?”

“Just.” Dean turns his screen off. “Texting friends.”

“You have friends besides us?” A new voice. Charlie and Dean groan.

“You invited Becky?” Charlie throws a pillow at Chuck, who dodges it easily.

“She _is_ my girlfriend.”

“How could I miss it?” Becky asks cheerily. She drops into Chuck’s lap and grabs some of the popcorn. “Anyway, Dean. What friends do you have besides the people here?”

“Uh.” Dean shoots a quick glance toward Charlie, who raises her eyebrows a little bit. “Jo.” Becky squeals.

“OMG”—she actually says omg—“are you guys going to start dating?”

“Oh, god, no.” Dean faux-gags as his phone chimes again.

trenchcoatt>>backinblack: wow im a hypocrite i have to go

>>this sounds stupid bc i havent actually ever seen you

>>but i miss you

The words send cliché butterflies into Dean’s stomach, and he has to remind himself firmly that it isn’t Dean that Castiel is missing. It’s Michael. Michael doesn’t even really exist.

“What’s Jo saying?” Becky inquires curiously, turning the volume up a tad. “Does she want to come over?”

“Naw, she’s busy.”

backinblack>>trenchcoatt: its not stupid i miss you too

He sends the message and curls into Charlie’s side. She pats his back but bless her she doesn’t ask questions and they just watch the movie as silent as a group of nerds watching Lord of the Rings could possibly be.

 

Charlie Bradbury is the kind of person who wakes up way too early in the morning and spends all of the time she has on the computer. It shouldn’t really be surprising to anybody who has met her, though, but her mother insists on getting this _look_ on her face whenever she comes to wake Charlie up to see that her daughter is already showered, dressed, and sitting at her computer desk with a cup of tea on one side of her and a bowl of oatmeal on the other. Even though this happens every single day, Mrs. Bradbury still wakes at six o’clock to make sure her daughter is up and ready.

It is four in the morning and Charlie has already been up for a few hours. She yawns and scratches at her stomach lazily as she types in a few more commands into her computer. She is in the midst of downloading the new Hobbit movie and this sort of thing is hard to do if it isn’t in theaters already. Well, hard for most people. Most people were not Charlie Bradbury.

When the movie is about 45% done downloading, a message pops onto her screen.

trenchcoatt>>queengranger: Charlie

<<Castiel

>>can we meet at lunch

<<sure???

<<what’s up?

>>just have a lot on my mind and I need to talk

Charlie frowns at her screen and her fingers drum on the keyboard without actually typing anything. She doesn’t like keeping her relationship with Castiel a secret from Dean—Dean is, after all, her best friend. But Cas had asked her to keep a secret, and she isn’t the type of person who breaks her promises.

A few months ago, Castiel had come to Charlie asking help on getting some information—the kind a normal person would not have access to, but also the kind that Charlie could to in a heartbeat. It wasn’t about to hurt anybody, so Charlie had obliged, and for some reason, Castiel had kept in contact. It’s rather nice—he’s a cool guy, and Charlie likes talking to him. If she wasn’t, like, super gay, she would probably be interested.

She can definitely see why Dean keeps being so loyal to him. Cas, even with his tough exterior and his sarcasm and his rebelliousness, is a sweet guy. Charlie wishes that he and Dean would just get their shit together because seriously, Charlie ships those two so hard it hurts. And she pressures Dean to talk to Cas and she sometimes pressures Cas to talk to people (because he doesn’t know she knows about Dean) but the two are too stupid to figure anything out.

queengranger>>trenchcoatt: whatever you need

<<thanks

>>anytime

>>behind the school?

<<sure

>>ok see you then

She knows he won’t say anything else, so she closes the chat box and checks up on the movie’s progress. 50%. This is taking way too long.

 

Lunch time eventually rolls around, and Charlie goes to her usual spot first, on the bleachers. It isn’t cool anymore to eat on the bleachers, so they have the place all to themselves. Dean sits on the bottom seat, sideways, with his legs stretched out in front of him; Chuck and Becky sit a few seats up, and Garth sits cross-legged on the ground because for some reason he doesn’t like sitting on the metal. Charlie would, normally, take a seat one up from Dean’s, but instead she tells them all that she needs to run a few errands.

“Errands?” Becky asks, because Becky needs to know everything about everything.

“Like, computer stuff you guys don’t need to know about,” Charlie says.

“Have fun,” says Dean, because Dean is all supportive like that and sometimes Charlie hates it. Why can’t he just be a little nosy or a little selfish because seriously if he turned those eyes on her (she does think they are pretty dreamy, honestly) she wouldn’t be able to resist. Charlie wonders briefly whether or not it would be worse if she were straight.

“Cool,” she tells them, “I’ll see you later.” She heads back toward the school, carefully avoiding Abaddon, who is a little too powerful for her own good, and then Alastair, her male counterpart. When she finally gets herself around the building, she spots Cas. He’s leaning up against the wall, smoking a cigarette and blowing the smoke into perfect little puffs that float for a few seconds before disappearing. “Cas,” she calls. He looks up and gives her a sideways smile.

“Hey, Charlie.” He drops the cigarette and grinds it into the dirt before walking toward her and enveloping her in a hug. Cas is sinfully good at hugging. Plus he smells like a mixture of smoke and happiness. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem-o,” she says lightly. “What’s on your mind?”

Cas digs a booted toe into the ground for a few moments. “I have this friend. Michael.”

“Okay.”

“He lives in Chicago and we started talking a few weeks ago and. Well.” He falls silent again and his tongue fiddles with the piercing on his bottom lip. Which is actually kind of cute. “I haven’t ever seen a picture of him, or heard his voice. He doesn’t even have a Facebook, for fuck’s sake. Who doesn’t have a Facebook? But he’s a really good friend and I was wondering if you could do something for me. I could pay you, if you want, like before.”

Charlie shakes her head firmly. “I don’t charge friends, Cas. What do you need?”

“I was wondering if you could look him up. So I could know.”

“You want to know if he’s the real deal.” Charlie lets out her breath as she watches her friend’s face. “You like this guy. You _like_ like him.”

Castiel looks hopeless. “I don’t know what to do, Charlie.”

“It’s okay. Just. I’ll need his name and username and everything, okay?”

“I have it all written down.” Cas hands her a little slip of paper. “Thank you so much, Charlie. You don’t know what this means to me.”

“Well, considering you haven’t been sarcastic or tried to be witty once,” Charlie says, scanning the paper, “I’m going to assume it means a lot. I’ll have it all ready tonight, maybe? Now get that smirk back on your face before I cry.”

Cas smiles. “You’re amazing, Charlie. I’ll see you later?”

“Sure.” Charlie gives him another hug and waits for his trademark smirk before he pulls out another cigarette and walks back toward his jerk friends.

Oh god. This is going to ruin everything. Castiel can’t fall in love with some mystery boy. He’s supposed to fall in love with Dean.

 

Charlie never thought that she would be one of those girls who shipped people who actually existed. But now she has a whole notebook filled with at least fifty different ways Cas and Dean would finally get together and Dean would actually be really and truly happy for once. He was, after all, one of those people who actually needed other people and didn’t spend almost all of their time on computers, like Charlie.

She had mentioned how cute a couple they would be—one time, absently—to Chuck, without really giving him any background information, and still Chuck had immediately pounced on it. That was a snippet of fanfiction that Charlie had read to Dean, one of Chuck’s.

Just. Ugh. They would be so cute. Who doesn’t love a punk-nerd slash?

Charlie needs to stop thinking about all of that. She has somebody named Michael to find on the internet. And when she finds him, she’s going to give him a stern talking to. Stop talking to Cas. Or make Cas talk to Dean. One of those. Michael was not allowed to be in love with Cas, too.

She types ‘backinblack’ into her computer and the username comes up. Hacking into it is simple enough—a few minutes of typing, some clicking and she’s in. She goes into Michael’s settings. His name is, of course, put as Michael Colt. Address, somewhere in Chicago. Charlie isn’t too concerned about that. She scrolls down a little further and stops at the phone number.

Why does that look so familiar?

She pulls out her own phone and taps in the same number, and a name immediately comes up.

MY BEAUTIFUL NERD (Dean)

Holy shit.

Charlie drops her phone and stares, not moving, at absolutely nothing.

Cas is in love with Michael. But Michael is Dean.

What. The. Hell.

What is Charlie supposed to do with this?

A message pops onto Charlie’s screen, and it takes a few minutes before she finally gets herself to move and open it.

trenchcoatt>>queengranger: hows the search going

She looks at the message for a long time. Does she tell him? Does she tell him that Dean made up a person so that he could talk to Cas? Does she tell him that he had fallen in love with his best friend? Or, better yet, that his best friend is in love with him?

Why do these things always happen to Charlie?

She rubs a hand over her face. This can be a good thing, she supposes. She can hold control over the situation, finally get them to see sense. She can make this work. It could take some time, but she could get it to work.

queengranger>>trenchcoatt: I am pleased to tell you that your Michael Colt is a real human being, and he is a junior in high school as he claims.

>>He is a knockout, Cas

<<can i see a picture of him

>>Excuse me, Mister.

>>If he doesn’t want you to see his face, why would it be okay to hire a hacker so you could see his face?

<<youre right

>>You’ll have to take my word for it.

<<i trust you

Charlie grins in the darkness of her room.

Dean and Cas will be a couple before the year ended if it killed her.

And seriously, it probably will.

 

“Yo,” Dean says into the phone as an answer. He had fallen asleep on the couch as soon as he got home—that’s what he got for marathoning on a school night—and had gotten the phone just before it turned off.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Cas?” Dean sits up and rubs his eyes, looking toward the clock. “It’s not nine yet” which is when Dean normally calls Cas to see if he’s up to gaming.

Castiel huffs a laugh. “I know. But since I called you two hours early, that means we can talk for longer, right?”

“Uh. Yeah?”

“Unless you’re busy doing whatever you do.” Dean can practically feel Cas shrug. “Like, playing Dungeons and Dragons or some shit. Reciting the Enochian alphabet backwards.”

“That’s not a thing, Cas.”

“So you aren’t busy?”

“I actually just finished my multiplication tables,” Dean snarks, yawning. “I suppose I could spare some time before I start rereading my history books.”

“Ugh, you nerd.”

Dean laughs. “Goth freak.”

“That hurts. Deep inside.”

“Sure it does, Cas.”

“I think I might get another tattoo expressing my deep hurt. Just picture it—tramp stamp, fancy lettering: Dean Winchester called me a Goth freak. I’ll remember this moment every time I happen to glance toward my ass.”

“Aw,” Dean says, “You want to get my name tattooed on you? I’m touched.”

“Yes, but _where_ you are touched. That is the question.”

Sam walks in from (where was he, Sarah’s? Dean likes that girl) wherever he had been and sends Dean a questioning look when he sees that he’s laughing.

“Oh, Sam’s home,” Dean says into the phone.

“Tell him hi,” Cas says. “Also my friend Crowley wants him to know that he’s a moose.”

Dean relays the information.

“Moose?” Sam frowns. “That doesn’t even make sense. Anyway. Say hi back for me. I’m gonna go hide in my room.”

“Whoa, whoa, Sam!” Dean calls after him. “Don’t turn antisocial! Somebody needs a life in this family!” Cas is chuckling on the other side of the line. “Anything exciting happen in your life, Cas?”

“Eh. Same old, same old.”

“Jo seems pretty infatuated with you. It’s weird and uncomfortable.”

“Infatuated?”

“Okay, so her actual word to describe you was ‘badass’,” Dean says, making air quotes even though Cas can’t see his hands. “And then she asked how you could be so attractive.”

“It’s just the way I am.”

“That’s not exactly how I replied. I believe I asked her how you could possibly think you’re badass.”

“Wow, Dean. Are you trying to kill me? Fuck, two insults in one night. And you’re supposed to be the perfect child.”

“I _am_ the perfect child, short bus.” Dean goes into the kitchen and pours himself a bowl of cereal.

“The fuck was that? Please tell me that was fruit loops. Oh my god. I’m going to explode. Fruit loops.”

Dean pours milk into the bowl. “Fruit loops. Delicious.”

“You monster. I want fruit loops. Naomi thinks colored cereal is a sin.”

“Come over. Dad’s not home, and I’m pretty sure Sam wouldn’t mind.”

There is a soft breath on the other line.

“You don’t have to,” Dean says quickly. “I mean. I know you don’t want to, like, see me anymore, but—”

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you,” Castiel says, sounding pained. “It’s just.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I want to come over, though. Is it still cool? Are you sure Sam is fine with it?”

“Hang on, I’ll check.” Dean swallows what is in his mouth and puts the phone down so he can lean out the doorway. “YO SAMMY CAN CAS COME OVER?”

Sam’s head pokes out. “THAT’S FINE DON’T LET HIM EAT ALL OF THE FRUIT LOOPS.”

Castiel laughs. “He knows me.”

“Nobody could forget your addiction,” Dean tells him. “Christ, Cas. Every time you came over we ran out. Dad was constantly pissed. When do you think you’re gonna be here?”

There is the sound of an engine. “I’m on my way. Naomi just gave me this weird look. I don’t think she approves of Meg.”

Dean scoops another spoonful of cereal into his mouth. “She met her?”

“Yeah, we went over to her house for a movie one time and Naomi came to pick me up.”

“Huh.”

“Apparently she thought I would be hammered and wouldn’t be able to drive.”

“You weren’t?”

“Of course I was. I was just offended she assumed as much.”

“Oh, look. I’m all done with my cereal. I guess I’ll pour another bowl.” Dean rattles the cereal box. “I might run out.”

“No, no. I’m almost there. Fucking stop signs.” A car honks. “Fuck you, Jeep. Yeah, that’s right. I’m Castiel Novak, motherfucker, I can run stop signs if I want to. There! I can see your house. Don’t you fucking dare finish the cereal, Dean Winchester.”

A car pulls into Dean’s driveway and he drops his bowl onto the counter and walks outside. Cas is hastily pulling his keys out of the ignition and prying open the door, his phone pressed to his shoulder so he doesn’t have to hold it. Finally getting the door open, he jumps out and finds himself face to face with Dean.

“I’m here,” he says, rather unnecessarily.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“I’m. I’m going to hang up now.”

Dean grins at his friend. It’s good to talk to him right to his face. He’s just so beautiful. “Okay, you do that.”

Cas slowly reaches up and takes his phone, then presses the end call button. Dean does the same. They watch each other for a few moments, and then Cas clears his throat. “Fruit loops?” he says hopefully.

“Come inside.”

 

They end up, an hour later, sprawled across the couch. Sam sits in John’s recliner, glancing over at them every few minutes and rolling his eyes because they had fallen asleep on one another halfway through the movie (Cas had finally admitted that _Rent_ was a pretty badass movie, “even if it is a musical” but both Dean and Sam know that Cas has every song memorized and cries every time) and curled up together, limbs entangled.

Sam rolls his eyes at them. They’re so stupid.

For one, Dean is not the kind of person to admit to his younger brother that he likes guys, but Sam has always known. From his earliest memories of Cas and Dean together, Dean always had this big stupid smile on his face, and he was always trying to find some reason to touch the other boy, or sitting closer than necessary. And then Cas is stupid for pretending like he doesn’t want to see Dean anymore.

He’s just a coward. Sam’s only thirteen and he knows how much of a coward Cas is.

Sam had eventually come out to claim some cereal before it was all gone and they all went into the living room for their movie. After some coaxing, Cas had given into _Rent_ , and Sam had carefully avoided the couch, even though there was plenty of room since Dean and Cas were sitting so close their legs and shoulders were touching. Ten minutes later, the cereal was gone, and Cas and Dean were sharing a blanket. Twenty minutes after that, Dean was leaning into Cas and not five minutes later they were both fast asleep.

They’re so stupid.

Sam fishes his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture before sending it right to Charlie. She has power. She knows what to do with that sort of thing, and better send it to somebody who has a backup for everything than lose it when Dean realized he had it.

He gets an immediate reply.

queengranger>>sasquatch: omg omg omg

Sam groans. Dean changed his username. Again. Sam doesn’t even know how he manages to get into his account so many times. Is that Charlie’s fault? It’s probably Charlie’s fault.

sasquatch>>queengranger: They’re idiots.

<<ug i kno i ship them so hardd

>>What does that mean?

<<it means they need to be a couple like now

>>They’ve pretty much been in love their whole lives. It’s annoying.

<<sam winchester

>>Yes?

<<they need to get together

<<are you with me

<<i need commitment

<<like are you really supportive of this

>>You have commitment.

<<good

<<let me tell you a thing

 

Dean wakes up in Cas’ arms and his first though is just about how nice and warm Cas is. Also his face may or may not be even prettier up close. He tugs the blanket further up his shoulders and snuggles deeper into Cas’ chest. This is nice. He can roll with this.

“Guys, time to get up.”

Sam’s finger stabs into his shoulder. Dean groans, and Cas opens his eyes, blinking slowly.

“Okay,” he says, “I didn’t mean to spend the night.”

“What time is it?” Dean asks. He slowly lifts himself off Cas, taking the blanket with him. Cas growls and yanks it, and Dean, back. “Geez.”

“Cas was never a morning person,” Sam says helpfully. He hands them each a mug of coffee. “You still have an hour to get ready.”

Cas makes an unhappy sound. “I still have to get home.”

“Do you have a jacket?” Dean definitely does not want Cas to leave. “I could give you a plain black shirt and you could just wear the jacket over it and still look like your emo self.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “I feel like you have ulterior motives.”

“Hell yes. I don’t want to get up yet.”

Sam snorts. “I’m going to go make us a _healthy_ breakfast. Dean, get up. You still have to take a shower.”

“Ugh. _You_ need to take a shower.”

“Real mature, Dean. I already did.” Sam disappears into the kitchen and Dean slowly drags himself up.

“I’ll go get your shirt,” he says. Castiel nods and stretches, his arms reaching over his head and exposing a thin strip of his stomach. Dean quickly looks away. He clears his throat.

 

Dean steps out of the shower and wraps his towel around his waist before turning off the bathroom light and walking to his bedroom.

Cas is waiting inside. He is just standing there (holy mother of what Cas is shirtless why is he shirtless what is going on) and looking at all of the posters on Dean’s wall with this smirk on his face and Dean freezes in the doorway. After a moment, Cas says, “You and I, we grew up differently.”

“We didn’t grow up differently,” Dean says. “We just made different choices.”

Cas turns and meets Dean’s eyes. He is so freaking gorgeous Dean is in over his head with this one. “I’ve been a bad friend, haven’t I?” he asks softly. “I’m just trying to save my own skin.”

Dean walks over to his dresser and pulls out a shirt, which he hands to Cas. “We all make mistakes,” he says. “I forgave you a long time ago. You don’t need to change for me.” What is he saying? Dean is so stupid. He has the chance to yell at Cas for ignoring him and he isn’t doing it. He’s acting like it doesn’t even matter. But it does. It keeps Dean up at night. It made Dean create a persona so he could talk to Cas a different way.

Ugh. What the hell is wrong with Dean?

Castiel pulls on the shirt, then pulls out a thin black stick from his pocket. Eyeliner? Cas actually keeps eyeliner with him? “No matter what happened,” Cas says, “You stayed loyal to me. Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Dean wants to hit himself. He’s just throwing this opportunity away.

Castiel smiles and uncaps his eyeliner. “I guess I’ll leave you to get dressed, then.”

 

Dean hadn’t expected anything to change, really. They’re in English class again and Cas is still sitting with Meg and Inias and smirking up at Mr. Milton and Dean still sits with Jo in the front. He has already turned in his essay, and the rest of the period was supposed to be ‘study time’, so Dean decides after a few minutes of contemplation that he should text Cas.

backinblack>>trenchcoatt: this a good time to text

<<yea fine english again nothing to do

They have a pleasant conversation, first, about movies, then books, then Cas tells him what is the best kind of eyeliner to wear and please Michael please wear eyeliner, and then Cas says something really funny and cute Dean loses all common sense.

He looks at the message and he reads it to himself and he’s smiling and his fingers are already typing a reply and god damn it all the message is sent before he realizes what he’s done.

backinblack>>trenchcoat: jfc i love you

It’s done. Dean’s dead. He’s going to die. He can’t even brush it off, either—Michael didn’t say things like that on accident. If he liked something that Cas said, he would say ‘genius’ or ‘ha’ (or alternatively: ‘heh) or ‘youre brilliant’ or something like that not ‘i love you’. Never ‘i love you’.

What’s worse is that now Dean Winchester didn’t have a chance because Michael already made his move. There’s something seriously wrong with Dean. He considers just getting up and leaving right then to spare himself the pain of looking at Cas.

But he looks anyway.

Cas is staring down at his phone with this surprised look on his face. He doesn’t look upset. He doesn’t necessarily look pleased, but there is no sign that he is even slightly disgusted or mad or upset. He just looks surprised.

Dean’s dead.

 

“What’s up, buttercup?” Charlie asks, behind the school once again with Cas. But there is no more of his calm demeanor that he is used to. And the cigarette he is smoking seems to be more of a stress thing than a way to look as rebellious as he wants to. He sits in the dirt with his knees to his chest and the cigarette between his lips and he looks rather terrified.

“Charlie, I’m so goddamn confused.”

Charlie frowns and sits down next to Castiel. One of the knees of his skinny jeans has a small hole in it, and the shiny black boots have smudges. Is Cas not looking his best? That’s rare. “What’s going on?”

Cas shoves his phone at her. It’s unlocked, and opened to the messages that he had been sending to ‘backinblack’. So, Michael. Who also happens to be Dean.

The most recent message is a bit of a shocker, and Charlie wants to smack something. Preferably Dean. But she just raises her eyebrows. “He sent this to you? Did you reply?”

“I didn’t know what to say,” Cas says. “Like I said. I’m confused.”

“Cas, I thought you said you liked him.”

“I do! I’m pretty sure I’m in _love_ with him. But…”

“But?”

Cas sighs. “It’s kind of complicated. When I was younger, maybe like four, I met this kid at the hospital. His mom was in the emergency room because she was caught in some fire and I was there because my mom is a secretary who couldn’t find a baby sitter. I was in the sandbox, all by myself. None of the other kids really liked me because I’m…you know, me. I was weird. But this kid. He came right up to me and he talked to me like I was his best friend, even though his mom was dying somewhere in the hospital. A few hours later, we were. And we were for years after that. Then I did something stupid. I felt like I needed to rebel against my family. My mom, Naomi, was too controlling and I felt like I needed to get out of that. This happened.” Castiel gestures to himself. Charlie holds her breath. “I got tattoos. And piercings. And I started only buying black clothing and then I started wearing eyeliner. And I told him that I couldn’t be seen with him anymore because he was the perfect child, and that it would screw with my rebellion. It was stupid. _I_ was stupid.”

Charlie reaches out and touches Castiel’s hand. He grasps her fingers tightly.

“We still talk sometimes on the phone, but I never know what to say. I never know what to say to bring him back. And then I’m too chicken shit to talk to him in person because we have completely different friends—except you. You’re what we have in common.”

“Dean,” Charlie says softly. She had known who he was talking about immediately, but hey, this is the perfect opportunity to say it.

Cas nods. “Dean,” he confirms. “Last night I went to his house to eat fruit loops. It’s just this stupid thing we always did when we were younger. And then we watched a movie together—Sam was there, but I couldn’t stop _touching_ him. And then we both fell asleep. And when I woke up we’re just wrapped around each other.” Castiel looks broken. “How could this happen, Charlie? How could I be totally in love with two different people?”

Charlie hugs Castiel tightly, rubbing small soothing circles onto his back as he shakes. “It’s all going to work out, Cas,” she whispers. But when the shaking stops and Charlie tries to walk away, she finds she can’t do it. She stops at the corner of the building and turns around. Cas is still sitting there.

“Cas,” she says carefully. “I haven’t been completely honest with you. But I need you to promise me not to get too angry? I was trying to do what was best.”

Cas just looks at her, waiting. Charlie bounces on the balls of her feet, taking deep breaths.

“Okay. So I told you that Michael was a real boy. And that’s true. But it also….isn’t.” Cas’ brow furrows. “I know. It’s kind of confusing. The person you’ve been talking to is a boy. He’s sixteen. A junior. Like he said. But his name isn’t Michael.”

“Then what is it.” Cas’ voice is a little flat.

“Just promise me you won’t get mad?”

“I’m not promising anything, Charlie. What’s his name?”

Charlie twists her hands. “It’s…Dean. His name is Dean. Dean Winchester.”

Castiel looks flabbergasted. “Holy shit,” he whispers. “Holy—fuck. _Fuck_. Michael is Dean?”

Charlie nods. She has the urge to run away, but she’s done it now and there really isn’t any turning back from this. She told him. Dean’s secret. His big secret that he couldn’t even tell her.

“He’s…he’s been lying to me. How long have you known?”

“I saw his number on his account. And I knew it was him. I’m so sorry, Cas. I was doing the whole choosing between two friends thing and—”

Castiel shakes his head, then stands. He pulls another cigarette from his back pocket. “I’m not angry with you, Charlie. I couldn’t be angry with you. You were just being loyal.” He flicks open his lighter and brings it to the end of his cigarette. The tip smokes. “Thank you for telling me.”

And then he calmly walks away.

Charlie stands there for a moment.

What did she just do?

 

“You okay, Dean?” Becky asks. She’s the first to notice that he’s off, since Chuck is in the middle of reading his most current installment of ‘Supernatural’, and Garth is staring suspiciously at the food inside of the paper bag he’s holding.

Dean shrugs and unwraps his sandwich for the third time since he’s sat down. He keeps wrapping it back up. He doesn’t know why.

“Yikes,” says Chuck. “Look at that guy. Is that Castiel?”

The group turns to look, and Dean’s stomach twists. It is Cas. And he looks glorious. And majorly pissed off.

Before Dean realizes what’s happening, Cas has is there up close and he has him by the shirt and he’s slamming him against the railing of the bleachers and it _hurts_ —it definitely hurts—but all Dean can think about is how much he screwed up.

And then Cas is yelling at him. Dean has never seen him so angry.

“What the _fuck_ , Dean!” Cas shakes him. Dean claws at his arm.

“Stop!” Garth shouts, and Dean can hear Chuck and Becky screaming, but Garth is the one who runs forward and tries to get Cas to pull away from Dean. Cas shoves him away and gets into Dean’s face.

 _What could have possibly gone wrong?_ Dean thinks wildly.

“You think I wouldn’t fucking _find out_ , Dean? You think I wouldn’t fucking _know_?”

“Cas,” he coughs out.

“You lied to me!” Cas bellows. “You pretended to be somebody else!”

“I was just trying to be your friend,” Dean wheezes, pleading. “Cas, I was just trying to find another way to talk to you.”

“I was in _love_ with you!” Cas screams. “You had to fucking make me fall in love with you _twice_ , is that it? Just to see your stupid friend make a fool of himself?”

Dean’s eyes widen. What? He finally manages to spit out the word.

“You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about,” he hisses. His fist draws back, then collides with Dean’s cheekbone. Dean collapses to the ground, gasping.

“Cas, please. I wasn’t—I was just trying to talk. I didn’t mean—”

Cas kneels next to him. His face is twisted, angry. “Don’t ever fucking talk to me again, Dean Winchester,” he growls, and then he’s standing and walking away.

“Dean?” Becky sounds frightened, not at all like her usual self. “What was that about? Are you okay?”

Dean just curls his arms around his knees and cries.

 

“Dean?” Sam knocks gently on his brother’s door. He can only hear muffled sobs on the other side. “Dean, open up. You’ve been in there for days. Can we talk?”

He doesn’t get an answer, but across the house, the front door opens, which can only mean one thing.

John comes into the hallway with a duffle bag slung over one shoulder. He doesn’t look concerned until he sees Sam crouched outside Dean’s door.

“What’s going on?” His voice is gruff, like it always is when he’s trying to be comforting. Sam hates it.

“Dean,” Sam whispers.

“Did he break up with his girlfriend or something?”

Sam glares at his father, suddenly hating him. “Dean doesn’t even have a girlfriend, Dad. Pay attention.”

John opens his mouth, probably about to scold his son or maybe yell at him like he’s so fond of doing, but then he stops. And he closes his mouth for a few seconds before he speaks. “What happened?”

“Cas happened.”

“Oh. Shit.”

“You knew? About Cas and Dean?”

John laughs humorlessly. “Sam, even when those boys first met, your mother and I knew that someday they would get together officially.”

“You…you don’t have a problem with it?”

“Why should I? Dean’s my son.”

Sam is quiet. “So am I.”

John softens. “I know, Sam. And I’m sorry. I should have been a better dad to both of you.”

Sam definitely did not expect that. John is not the sort of person to admit faults. He’s a marine, through and through. He doesn’t just give in like this. “Can you. Can you talk to him? He’s really hurting and I don’t know what to do. He always knows what to do and I can’t even do this. I can’t even comfort him.”

“I’ll talk to him,” John says. He knocks on Dean’s door. “Dean. Open up.”

A few seconds pass, and then the door slowly slides open. Dean’s tear-streaked face is the only thing that Sam can see in the room. “Hi, dad,” he says weakly. “I’m sorry for not—”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” says John firmly. “What’s all this about Cas?”

“I was stupid. I…I lied to him.”

“And he called you out on it?”

Dean shrugs miserably. “Yeah, I guess so. I don’t know how. I just…I lied to him and then I did something stupid and all of a sudden he knows everything.”

“Did you talk to him?” Sam wishes John’s voice could be a little gentler. It really isn’t helping Dean at all that John sounds perpetually angry.

“I tried. That’s where I got this from.” Dean points at his cheek, and Sam notices for the first time, in the dim light of the hallway, the dark purple bruise around his eye. John whistles.

“That kid always did have a mean right hook.” Both Dean and Sam bristle, but John holds up a hand. “Dean, I know you think that you should just stay away from Cas.”

“He _told_ me to, Dad,” Dean says.

“That’s what I figured. But the truth is, I have never seen you happier than you are when you’re with that boy. I can see it. Your mother could see it, and she told me before she died that someday you two were going to be together.” John reaches out and, very hesitantly, puts his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean sags under the weight. “Your mother and I, we got into fights, too. Some were so bad that I felt like it was all over. But I went after her. Dean, listen to me.”

Dean looks up. He’s shaking. It makes Sam’s chest hurt—he’s never seen his brother this weak before. He’s always been the strong one, always the one who hugged Sam when he cried and put protection symbols that he found on the internet on the closet door and told him stories until he fell asleep. And now that the tables are turned, Sam has no idea what to do.

“If you love that boy,” John says. “You go after him. Because I know for a fact that he loves you too and I’ve been waiting for twelve years for you two to finally get your shit together.”

Dean’s eyes widen. John looks at Sam.

“How long as it been?”

“About a week,” Sam answers. He fights the grin that threatens to envelop his face.

“Don’t let him get away,” John says to Dean.

Dean smiles weakly. “I won’t, Dad.”

 

winchester67>>trenchcoatt: Cas can I talk to you

error>>winchester67: This account is no longer in use. Please check the spelling of the username or ID.

wincester67>>queengranger: Charlie can you find Cas for me

<<how r u doin

>>not very well

>>i need to talk to Cas

<<i kno u do

<<im talking to him rn

<<hes pretty pissd

Dean can’t help but wonder why a computer genius like Charlie couldn’t actually type out full words.

winchester67>>queengranger: youre talking to him

<<yea were kinda friends?

>>youre the one who told him arent you

>>about Michael

<<callng u

Dean picks up his phone when it rings and immediately Charlie’s apologetic voice blares into his ears.

“Ohmygod Dean I’m so sorry it was just he was hurting and I didn’t know what to do and well we’re kind of close so I wanted to make him feel better and tell him that he wasn’t in love with two different people except instead he got really mad—”

“Charlie,” Dean says. “I’m not upset with you.” He isn’t, really. He’s just really upset with himself.

“Ugh. Neither of you are. It’s really annoying. I did this thing and you guys were supposed to be pissed off at me together so you can finally get together.”

Dean isn’t sure what to do with this sort of information, so he just backtracks a little bit. “Do you really think he was in love with me? I mean. He said at the bleachers that I made him fall in love with me twice but he was really angry—”

“Dean. People that angry don’t tend to lie.” Charlie’s voice is very gentle. “And yes, I think he was in love with you. And I think he still is. He’s just feeling a little betrayed.”

Dean rubs his face. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Where are you?”

“Right now? I’m sitting in the Impala. In my driveway.”

“Then start the car and go to his house right now.”

“Charlie—” John had told Dean that he needs to confront Cas. But that doesn’t mean Dean wants to do that right this second. He needs to sit in his car for a while. He needs to think.

“No, Dean. I just hung up with Sam and he told me everything that happened. We all want you to go over there. You need to be brave. You need to go get your man.”

“Now you’re talking to Sam?”

“Dean. Hang up and go.”

Dean hangs up and he goes.

 

Cas hears the knock and he hates himself for wanting to answer it, because he knows exactly who it is. When they were younger, it always took Dean this long to show up at his house. And Cas knows that if he opens the door, he’ll either hit him, or he’ll listen to him and forgive him.

And he doesn’t want to do either. He wants to sit here and sulk.

He also wants to talk to somebody about this. He had planned to talk to Michael about his Dean problems. He was actually typing out _Michael I don’t know what to do I’m in love with my best friend I don’t know what happened_ and then he got the message. The Message. And he didn’t know what to do about it.

And then Michael was Dean all along? God. Fuck him.

He needs to talk to Michael. Or Dean. And neither are options.

He fiddles with his lip piercing and stares up at the ceiling. Dean will be let in soon. Naomi is home and everybody in the known universe knows that Naomi loves herself a nice nerdy kid.

“Why couldn’t you be like Dean Winchester?” she was always asking. And Cas could be bitter about it, but he never can find it in himself to do that. He always thinks happy things when he thinks of Dean. Even now. Even though Dean betrayed him, Cas still thinks of warm blankets and fruit loops whenever his mind conjures up his face.

Naomi knocks on the door. “Castiel. Dean is here to see you.”

Cas wants to scream and throw something. He doesn’t want to see Dean. He does. But he doesn’t. Because he might hurt him and he really doesn’t want that.

Then Naomi opens the door. And Dean’s standing there.

He’s wearing his usual attire—graphic tee, blue jeans, boots, and his big black glasses that magnify his gorgeous eyes and the freckles on his cheekbones. Cas looks away. He doesn’t want to see him.

“Cas,” Dean says.

“Go away,” he replies immediately.

“No. You need to listen to me.”

“You fucking lied to me. You—”

“And you were a fucking jerk!” Dean bursts out. Cas blinks at him. Dean never swears. Never. He’s the good child. Noticing Cas’ shocked silence, Dean continues. “You left me, Cas! Did you really think that I was going to be okay with that? You were my best friend and you left me behind because you thought that it would help you be rebellious! You went to different friends and you kept me hidden and I was your dirty little secret and I _hated_ it, okay? I hated it! So I’m _sorry_ if I tried to get my friend back. I’m _sorry_ that I was so desperate for you to treat me like a normal person that I came up with somebody else! Don’t you get it? I had to pretend to be somebody else so you would just talk to me. That’s what you’ve done to me, Cas.”

Cas isn’t sure what he needs to say. He isn’t sure anything will suffice, will help make this all better. Dean looks so broken, standing there in front of Cas with his hands shoved in his pockets and his glasses crooked on his face. Cas just wants to reach up and fix it. He wants to hug Dean and never let go.

“You broke my heart, Cas,” Dean says, his voice choked with tears. Cas swallows.

“Can you. Can you come here?”

Dean slowly walks toward him, and Cas grabs his shoulders, pulling him down onto the bed and hugging him to his chest so he can comfort him as he cries.

“I’m so sorry,” Cas whispers. “I’m a fucking asshole and I don’t deserve you at all. I shouldn’t have left you. I should have stayed.”

“You should’ve,” says Dean miserably.

“The truth is,” Cas says, “I am so goddamn in love with you and I’m terrified for it.”

Dean looks up at him. His eyes are wet. “You really mean it?”

“I announced it in front of the whole school,” says Cas, giving the other boy a wry smile. “I mean it. But hey. I only want you, okay? I don’t want Michael.”

“Okay.” Dean smiles a little.

They look at each other for a few minutes, quietly breathing, with their noses almost touching. And then Cas finally leans forward, and their lips connect, and Dean is a little salty but his lips are just as Cas imagined and he can’t get enough.

He keeps kissing him. Dean kisses him back. He wraps his arms around Cas’ waist and he kisses him hard. Naomi walks in once but she immediately walks back out and shuts the door.

Cas rolls on top of Dean. He kisses him more.

 

A few hours later they end up lounging on the floor and they’re both a bit sleepy, but Dean insists on giving Cas these little kisses, these little pecks, every now and then, which drive Cas a little crazy and keeps him awake but he also loves them.

“Can I see them?” Dean asks finally, playing with Cas’ fingers. “Your tattoos. You’ve never shown them to me before.”

“You’ve seen them.”

“But you’ve never explained them.”

So Cas shows him each one, and he explains each one, and when he points out the Enochian lettering on his ribs Dean traces his fingers over them and it tickles like hell. “I almost got wings on my back,” says Cas.

“And you didn’t?”

And Cas laughs and rolls over so Dean can see that there isn’t anything at all on his back. “That would be so goddamn cliché,” he says. “I was actually wondering if you could design something.”

“Would you design something for me?”

Oh god. That would be so hot, to have something Cas made permanently etched onto Dean’s skin. Jesus Christ. “Oh, hell yes.”

“I have to ask,” says Dean, once all of the tattoos are properly explained. “What’s with the eyeliner? What’s the appeal? Isn’t it annoying? Does it get in your eyes?”

Cas grins. He knows that Dean can tell exactly what the grin means. “Why don’t I show you?”

“Uh. How?”

Cas fishes in his pocket and pulls out his eyeliner, popping off the cap and twisting the makeup into view. “Right. Come closer and open your eyes wide.”

Dean backs away. “Whoa. Nope. Not doing that.”

“C’mon, Dean. Do it for me.”

“I’m a nerd. Literally, publicly, a nerd.”

“Yes, but a hot one. And the hotness could be amplified.” Cas tugs him closer, and Dean finally lets him do his magic.

When Cas is done, he puts Dean’s glasses back on his face and admires his handiwork. “Well?” Dean asks. He starts to get up, but Cas tugs him back down.

“You are not allowed to go in public like this,” Cas growls, and presses his lips to Dean’s again.

 

They go to school the following Monday in Dean’s Impala and Dean drives because Cas knows that it’ll be a while before he gets to touch the Baby’s steering wheel. And they walk into the school holding hands, and Meg and Inias give them funny looks, and Pamela cheers loudly with Charlie standing next to her (Christ, does she know _everybody_?) and Becky and Chuck look a little frightened, especially since the last time they saw them together Cas was kicking Dean’s ass, but eventually they see that they’re both really happy, and they’re both really stupid, and they roll with it. (Chuck gives Dean all of the fanfiction he wrote with a satisfied smile a few days later, saying he always knew it, with Charlie and Sam rolling their eyes behind him) When Sam sees them he’s with Sarah (actually he’s making out with Sarah, which is cool, but he finally breaks away) and he gives Dean and Cas this stupid smug face. Sarah yells at them both not to fuck in the locker room and Dean screams at Sam that he needs to marry that girl, because she could entertain them for a long time.

In English they sit together. Cas leaves Meg and Inias in the back and sits with Dean and Jo in the front and he still gives Milton snarky comments every few seconds, but he also holds Dean’s hand when the teacher isn’t looking.

Cas is still rebellious. Dating the nerd does not change that at all, which Dean points out with a tired laugh. But sometimes he calls Dean Michael because he knows how much it irritates him and really it’s kind of funny.

In their relationship, there are fruit loop genocides, makeover nights (which really is just Cas putting eyeliner on Dean, drooling over it, and making out with him furiously, consecutively), flipping their friends the bird when they tell them to knock off the PDA, and moaning at Chuck whenever he reads them pieces that describe them getting lost in ‘emerald green eyes’ (which sometimes changes to ‘candy apple green eyes’, which sounds much tastier to Cas than emeralds, and as Dean pointed out, are really not at all similar colors) or ‘bright intense blue eyes that storm and rage like the sea’ (to which Dean complained is way more poetic than either of the descriptions for his own eyes).

“Do you ever wonder what would’ve happened if Charlie didn’t tell you about Michael?” Dean asks him once, with his head in Cas’ lap, while they watch a nerdy movie that Dean insisted on.

“I probably would have lost my shit,” Cas replies easily.

“You think you would’ve gone up to Chicago? Or made the nonexistent Michael come down here?”

“I would’ve chosen you,” says Cas, and he drops a kiss onto Dean’s forehead.

“Liar. I listened to that email yesterday—you confessed your love to me. You would’ve whined and cried about it and asked Charlie.”

Cas just looks at him.

“Wait. You did talk to Charlie about it, didn’t you?” Dean deepens his voice, but he also makes it sound very whiny, which Cas doesn’t really understand. “Charlie,” he whines, “I’m maddeningly in love with two different people and I don’t know what to do!”

Cas laughs at him. “That’s more or less exactly what I said.”

“You are such a freak.”

“I’m your freak,” says Cas.

“And you’re cliché, to boot.”

Castiel kisses him, and he shuts up after that. He shuts up for a few hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Woo. My first fic, all beta'd and completed and posted. Thank you to frenchmeafry, my beautiful, wonderful, fantastically amazing beta--you are my favorite. Feel free to comment. I love comments. They make me happy.


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